


every plant is an individual

by underpressure



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Disease, Herbology, M/M, Marijuana, Medicinal Drug Use, Multiple Sclerosis, No Sex, Plants, Recreational Drug Use, University Student Harry, University Student Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underpressure/pseuds/underpressure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a gardener. Louis is just looking for something to smoke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every plant is an individual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [watchoutamore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchoutamore/gifts).



> I hope this is okay. I had so much time when I signed up for the exchange and then life got in the way. I really do hope that this is at least close to something you wanted. If not, feel free to send me something mean (maybe not too mean though, because I did my best with the time I made haha). I hope you all enjoy it, especially the person that it is meant for.
> 
> the prompt was "Harry is a gardener. He's always had a green thumb. Spring is his favorite time of year. He's in school for botany (study of plants) He wants to work with research in medicine from plants. Louis is his next door neighbor who keeps him up all the hours of the night with his parties and loud music. Harry never complains though, until Louis pisses on one of Harry's favorite plants and rips it out of the ground one night while he's pissed drunk. Louis tries to make it up to him but Harry is hurt and annoyed. Louis falls for the boy who cries over his plants. Dom!Harry"

When Harry was a little boy, his mother had a garden. In their tiny backyard, his mother had long rows of tomatoes and squash. She planted hydrangea bushes and rose bushes and cut the blooms to fill giant vases to take to his grandparents, who lived in an assisted living facility at the time. He had grown up loving the sight of her soil covered fingers and lily smelling hair. His sister had never held much interest in flowers or vegetables, not like Harry did at least. While he would follow his mother around the garden holding her trough and watering can, Gemma would lounge in the grass to soak in the sun. His mother would take the watering can and sprinkle the water over the soil and then over Harry to make him giggle up at her.

It’s been two years since his mother was out to tend to her lovely garden. Now, she sat in the window while Harry kneeled over the dirt and coaxed the tomatoes to ripen so that he could make his mother a tomato sandwich, so that she could taste the sweet juices of a homegrown tomato. When Harry was fifteen, his mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. 

In the beginning, some days were better than others. Her hands would lock up in awkward positions and sometimes she would lose her ability to see. Some days she would follow Harry out into her garden and watch over his shoulder as he picked her tomatoes. In the beginning of Harry’s second semester at university, five years after her diagnosis, Harry’s mother lost the function of her legs. Gemma, his sister, had moved across the country. She had taken up in an apartment in Manhattan working in a salon and Harry was left to move back in with his mother. 

Now, Harry is in his sophomore year of college and his mother is watching from the window as he builds a snowman in her snow-covered garden. All of her lovely plants are not yet in bloom, hiding and waiting for the sun to return with the heat that will coax it to stand and call for attention. With his dark jacket steadily being powdered with snow, Harry molds the snow into round balls with difficulty all the while listening to their neighbors do the same. 

It had been early in the previous year – March, perhaps – when Mrs. Douglas’ children had come to compile her house into one suitcase and one cardboard box. She had left her home for sale and three students had soon taken up the offer. Harry hadn’t had the opportunity to meet them officially; though he had heard them splashing about during July when he picked his mother’s squash and he’d heard their overwhelming music when he snuck out to tend his tender garden, hidden in their shed late at night. 

After his mother had lost the ability to use her legs, Harry had spent hours neglecting his coursework and instead, searching the internet for different, natural medications that would make his mother comfortable. With a few months of writing several serious, pleading letters and visiting hospitals all over the state and lawyers’ offices as well, Harry now had a thriving marijuana plant that grew in his mother’s beloved garden. 

Harry turns to wave at his mother, still sat in the window with a blanket tucked tightly around her legs. The cold always manages to make her limbs stiff and Harry hates to see her have to rub at the bend of her arms or at her knuckles from the painful cold. With a fading smile, he opens the door to the shed and smiles at the large leaves of his marijuana plant. He has to gather a bit for his mother during the next few days. 

The love that Harry held for plants had transferred into his work at university. Harry studies biology with an emphasis in botany. While, he doesn’t like to think of his mother’s disease as any sort of blessing – his love for her garden and for nature has led him to begin work on his thesis for his master’s degree. Though he is only a sophomore, Harry was a member of the honors college at his university and was required to complete a thesis by the time he would achieve his bachelor’s degree. 

In his greenhouse, there are only marijuana plants and a filing cabinet. In the filing cabinet, there are all of the documents that he must have due to his regulations for growing his own marijuana. He goes about gathering the plant so that his mother will have them while he plans to visit his sister for a few days in Manhattan. It had been a rather spur of the moment idea for a trip. Gemma had called him in a right state, going on and on about needing him to come see her for a while. He had offered the idea of her coming to visit both of them, but Gemma had never dealt with their mother’s illness well. She had declined his idea, but offered him a paid trip to and from New York for two nights. 

His bags had already been packed and his childhood best friend had been called to come and check on his mother a few times while he was away. Niall had basically become a member of Harry’s family during his own parents’ divorce, and Harry trusted him with, not only his life but his mother’s as well. When he manages to make it back inside, his fingers are more than a bit numb and his nose is tinged a pretty pink. 

“I’m going to leave this in the kitchen. Niall will fix it for you, okay?” He smiles at her, leaving the plant on the counter and heading over to give her a big hug and kiss. 

“You’re going to be late for your flight,” she whispers, hands reaching up to brush the long curls from his face. 

“I’m on time. I love you. Call me if you need me, okay? I’ll let you know when I get there. Maybe Niall will set up the computer and we can all FaceTime or something. I’m sure Gemma wouldn’t mind.” 

They both laugh. It had never been much of a secret that Niall had always been Gemma’s favorite of Harry’s friends. 

“I love you too. Be safe. Give Gemma all my love, alright?” He kisses her again, squeezing her fingers extra tight in his hand and then turns for his bag. 

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

***

Gemma greets him at the airport with a hug tighter than he’s ever gotten off her. He immediately is a bit afraid, squeezing her back. She’s thinner than he remembers and her hair is a lilac shade that he finds very nice. When she pulls back, there is not so much happiness in her eyes but a calm sadness that Harry recognizes all too well. 

It is very clear why he has been called to New York, but he will bide the time until Gemma will tell him. 

“I want to take you to this Japanese place. Best sushi you’ll ever have, guaranteed,” She laughs, lacing her arm through his as they make their way down some road that Harry’s unfamiliar with. He’d dropped his bag off at her apartment, but she hadn’t allowed him even a moment to go to the bathroom before dragging him off for dinner. 

The restaurant is fairly empty at four in the afternoon, so they are seated quickly. Gemma’s fingers tap nervously against the table as she flips through the menu, raving about the Philadelphia roll and the Crispy Crab Roll. Harry settles on one with plenty of crab meat, avocado and cream cheese. She order something with salmon and then starts to talk of her university classes and that.

She makes it all the way through to tell of her most recent lecture on how she has to write a paper for her psychology course on how, were she gay, she would come out to her friends and family. Harry smiles, knowing that she will probably call mainly on his experience and how he had told her and their mother and then promptly vomited into the sink. It was a hilarious experience, especially because his mother had shoved a can of 7UP into his hand while telling him how much she loved him. 

“So how’s school? Making good grades? Meeting cute boys?” Gemma teases, before shoveling some fried rice into her mouth. 

“You know I don’t have time for anyone but Mom. I do have good grades though. I had to write a paper on the uses of aloe. It was a pretty neat paper, if I’m honest,” he answers, not at all missing her sad look about him taking care of their mother.

“That’s good then.” She leaves it, looks back down at her sushi.

“Yeah, I think… Well, I feel like when a boy comes along then it will be the right time… yaknow? Maybe he’s even been in front of me the whole time.” 

“Jesus Christ, please don’t tell me you have a crush on Niall. He’s my backup.”

This sends them in a peal of laughter and for a minute Harry can forget how his sister puts down her chopsticks halfway through their meal to rub her fingers as if they’ve gone stiff. 

***

She tells him on the last day. It’s all a blur, much like when his dad came down to visit after his mom’s diagnosis. There are talks of sudden blindness, fatigue, and anxiety. She tells him of episodes of dizziness and numbness in her face and hands. The symptoms had come upon her quickly and she had recognized them. It had taken her two weeks because the thought of the diagnosis had scared her so much. Harry listens intently, eyes welling and lip quivering. It’s horrifying. And then she says something that makes his heart absolutely stop.

“I asked the doctor and he said that you should get tested too, that it’s possible to have been passed down to both of us.” 

Harry tries not to think of it too much; just holds Gemma close while they watch a film together later that evening. If he doesn’t think about himself and focuses more on her, then perhaps God will look down on him kindly. Perhaps he won’t have to worry about it.   
After he hugs Gemma by in the airport, he calls his doctor from the terminal. His stomach is sick and he feels nothing but dread and fear curling in the lower pits of his stomach while he schedules an appointment. If this gene has been passed down on him, he doesn’t really know what to do; what about all of his pre-graduate work and his studies on the effect of marijuana on MS patients?

He tries very hard not to cry after he arrives back home, hugging his mother tightly and then Niall, who she said had stayed at the house the entire time. He says goodbye to Niall, makes sure his mother will be alright for the next hour and then heads upstairs to the shower. He prays the water is loud enough to conceal the sounds of his sobs.

***

Louis Tomlinson cared deeply for other people. He’s always had a soft spot for helping others; maybe because he had so many younger siblings. He’d have two more pretty soon. That is beside the point, though. Right now, he’s trying to help out his best friend. Zayn had been stressing pretty hard recently over school and other crap. 

He had known for quite some time that the house next door was growing an… um illegal substance in their garden. Louis was no stranger to marijuana. He’d been smoking it since his sophomore year of high school and it had been the only thing to really relax him through his parent’s divorce and multiple school exams. Hell, he was high when he had done most of his exams. It’s probably the only thing that’s helped him keep a 3.2 GPA throughout uni if he’s being honest. 

Anyway, when Zayn had talked about his problems with school and stuff, Louis had conveniently remembered the garden next door. It was already dark, had been for a while in fact, as Louis climbed over the fence into the next yard. He’d never met his neighbors before, had never really had a reason to introduce himself. He hoped that they didn’t own a gun, because he really didn’t feel like going to the hospital or jail tonight.

It’s just… Louis has always had sorta rotten luck. So it makes perfect sense that as he leans over the plant, the door opens to the small shack. He freezes, eyes shifting over to find the most hilarious sight ever. Louis has never met his neighbors, and he would never change their first meeting after such a sight. 

In the doorway, the man is wearing a pair of white boxers with open bananas dancing all over them. His hair is tied up in a bun and his dressing gown is a fluorescent pink. Louis tries not to find him completely endearing instead of terrifying. 

“What are you doing?” 

Of all the tones, he didn’t expect one as deep as that. He leans back up, turns toward his neighbor and thinks of any sort of excuse. _Fuck it_

“I… uh, I was hoping to sample some of your weed, bro. I’m Louis. I live next door.” 

The man’s eyes widen, his back going taught and mouth dropping open. 

“How did you know about the marijuana?” He asks, closing the door behind him so that they are both standing in a small room that is completely full of different pots with marijuana growing in it. Since when did he drop into a James Franco movie? Is this Pineapple Express?

“Oh, well. You aren’t really that secretive mate. No, my friends were over the other night and kicked our ball into your yard. I hopped the fence to get it and saw the leaves through the door. I recognized them immediately,” Louis confesses, watching as the guy pouts a bit at him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Harry replies, wrapping his dressing gown around his front and holding himself about the waist. 

“I won’t,” Louis laughs, “I’m not gonna rat you out.” 

“No, I’m not worried about that. I have a permit, but I don’t sell it.” He points vaguely behind him where a framed document is hanging. Louis is so fucking confused and it’s not from the two daiquiris he had at the club with Eleanor. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Is this all for you?” 

“My mother is sick.” He says, watching Louis sharply. 

“What’s wr… No, I’m sorry. I’ll leave and you won’t have to worry. I won’t tell and I won’t come take any.” 

“No, you can’t leave. How can… How can I trust you? I don’t even know you.” 

“I wouldn’t tell about your weed, dude. I wouldn’t want someone to rat me out. I’m Louis, though. I live next door,” Louis says, walking forward so he can get out of the door and maybe sleep off whatever kinda fever dream this is.

“You said that already. I’m Harry,” he says, with a thoughtful look. And it’s… well, Harry doesn’t really what comes over him but suddenly he says, “Here’s how you can make it up. I have… I have to go to this appointment. My sister is sick like my mom and I may have it. I can’t tell anyone else. If you come with me, I’ll let you have some of the weed.” 

Harry doesn’t really know what just happened and judging by the look on Louis’ face, he doesn’t either. He can’t tell anyone. It would tear his mother and Niall apart. He stares at Louis, feeling a little crazy and a little more than desperate. 

“Oh… Okay. I’ll... I’ll go with you.” 

***

Louis sleeps easy that night, waking up the next morning believing that all he thought the night before was a part of a weird dream. He continues on to university like nothing is different. And then two days later, pink dressing gown and banana pants shows up on his porch. 

“Are you ready to go?” Louis looks down at his sweatpants and Dorito stained t-shirt. He pulls on a sweatshirt. Sure, he is. 

“So, I suppose I didn’t dream about your weed shed, did I?” Harry slaps a hand over his lips, looking frantically around and then back at Louis. They are the only people on the street. 

“Don’t say that. You can’t tell people. You promised, remember?” 

Louis brings his hands up, holds them beside his head. Harry is wide-eyed, flushed and more than a little handsome. If he didn’t seem to be just a bit too crazy, Louis would definitely set about picking him up. As it happens however…

“Let’s just go, mate.” 

Harry’s car is an old white Mercedes that seems like it could fall apart at any minute. Louis still savors every minute he sits on the black leather. Mark had tried to pass on his love for cars to Louis, but all Louis had to offer was that he had his first kiss in the back of a Volvo when he was thirteen and his first blowie in a Lexus at sixteen. 

Louis tries not to feel awkward, tries not to ask himself over and over why on earth he thought it would be okay to go and steal someone’s weed. Next to him, Harry drives the car with both hands on the steering wheel, knuckles tight as they grip. Even though it’s probably not nice, he’s happy that Harry is just as nervous as he is. 

“So, what’s… what’s wrong with you again?” Louis asks, breaking the steady stream of some folk singer and causing Harry to look at him with such wide eyes. It’s like he still hasn’t gotten over the incident a few nights before. 

“Well, I went up to New York to visit my sister last week and we went out to eat at this sushi place. I had this really great roll with a ton of crab meat, even though I don’t usually eat a ton of crab meat. While we were eating, my sister – Gemma is her name, by the way – Gemma was kinda acting weird. So I asked her what was wrong and she hinted about being diagnosed with MS. That’s multiple sclerosis. She told me later, like about her appointment and the symptoms and stuff. I mean we are both pretty familiar with it considering our mom has had it for like… so many years but anyway. I can’t tell my mom about Gemma or me maybe having it, because she’ll get really upset. I just… I need to go and make sure that it’s… that everything is okay.” 

Louis’ mouth is slightly open and he’s leaned on the door so that he can look at Harry properly. Harry is a shit story-teller. He’s like Daisy, his sister, who will go up to randoms in the grocery store and tell them her whole life story. They’d probably be best friends, except they’d run out of stuff to say within the first three hours – four if Harry talks as slow as he just did all the time.

“You… ahem, I’m really glad that I can be here for you then?” What the hell do you say to someone after they tell you that? Louis has always been shit at words, and relied mainly on soothing shoulder grips and pats on the shoulder to convey his emotions. He feels even more uncomfortable now. 

Harry’s doctor’s office is pretty standard; Louis’ been in his fair share of doctor’s offices. Unsurprisingly, they usually look the same. He tries not to get too close to Harry as he signs in, doesn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or anything. That’s pretty stupid though, since he’s only here because Harry demanded it. Harry tells the nurse his name, signs in, and then leads Louis over to a small couch against the window. Harry’s got these really long, thin fingers that are trembling where they rest in his lap and is based on pure impulse only that Louis reaches over and grips them tightly. It’s weird to have his hand in Harry’s lap, but he holds to the other boy’s cold fingers tightly. Louis may have never been in a situation similar to this before, but he really does feel sorta bad for Harry. 

“Do you… do you wanna go eat after this? So you can like… calm down before you go back home?” Louis asks, looking over at Harry’s profile. The slope of his nose is quite precious… if he allows himself to wander into the part of his brain that finds Harry ridiculously weird and attractive. 

Harry makes this weird, sorta constipated looking face, but he nods so Louis takes it as an advancement in this weird friendship. Harry tells him to stay in the waiting room, that he’ll be out in a bit. So maybe not quite a friendship; perhaps it’s one of those friendships that you make out of convenience. Louis’ had a ton of those. Louis reads through some of the magazines that are laid out on the table, thumbing through articles about Kim Kardashian and the like. 

Harry’s appointment doesn’t take very long, but by the time he leaves the office, Louis is bored. He’s read (read: skimmed) all the magazines, downloaded candy crush on his phone and then gave up on it, and texted each of his sisters. Harry’s eyes are red rimmed when he comes out and Louis decidedly doesn’t mention it. When they climb into the Mercedes, Harry breathes out shakily, bring his arms up to cross over the steering wheel so that he can rest his forehead on them. Now, Louis has never been the best with comforting people. He always found that simple shoulder pats or knuckle bumps made people feel better – at least that’s what worked for Liam and Liam was about as normal as a guy gets. There is no center console in Harry’s old Mercedes though, so Louis slides over to sit close to him. Harry smells like day old sweat and dirt. Louis finds that he likes that smell, so it’s much easier for him to wrap an arm around Harry’s back so that Harry moves from leaning over the steering wheel to wrapping himself around Louis.

Harry sniffs deeply, breathing back out in a shaky way that lets Louis know that he’s feeling a bit more than emotional about everything. In a weird way, Louis feels closer to Harry in this moment than he’s ever felt with anyone. There’s no faster way to buddy up to someone than by hugging them as they cry in the car.

“I don’t have it.” 

Normally, Louis would have shouted. He shouted when Zayn found out that he didn’t break his hand after a skate boarding accident that would have left him out of work – he was a painter – for a few months. He shouted when Liam found out that the doctors had been wrong, that he had two kidneys his entire life. He doesn’t shout when Harry tells him that he doesn’t have the same disease as his mother and sister. He just squeezes Harry tighter, runs a hand up and down the smooth line of his back. 

“Do you want to go get lunch or…?” 

Harry shakes his head, pulls back from their hug and Louis almost regrets even opening his mouth. Wiping at his eyes and nose, Harry doesn’t meet his eyes but turns to crank the car and says, “Let’s just go back to my house.”

Louis doesn’t reply, just nods and then buckles his seatbelt. He finds it odd that Harry doesn’t want lunch, when they had agreed to it before the appointment. Then again, Louis can’t really understand what’s happening with this situation. He can’t imagine what Harry is feeling. He feels a bit desperate to have a connection with Harry, so he reaches over to grip Harry’s hand.

At Harry’s house, his mother is asleep when they come in. Harry goes to the fridge and pulls out a container of pasta salad and two forks and then leads Louis out to the garden. It’s still a little cold outside and Louis breathes in deeply. He wants to say something, but he’s too afraid to break down the steely look that Harry’s got on his face. 

Harry leads them to the shed where they first met. On the floor, he throws out a quilt and leaves their pasta salad and two forks on the blanket. He sits easily and then gestures for Louis to do the same. Louis cannot help but wonder if he’s going to offer him some of the marijuana. He wonders if he would take it. 

They eat in silence, stabbing black olive slices and curvy pasta and shoveling into their mouths and after the pasta is gone and Louis still is not full, Harry gathers it all over to the side. He lies back and then Louis does the same, because it feels like the right thing to do. Then Harry begins to talk.

“I read a book by Dale Pendell once. It was about like… existentialism and that and I remember these lines from it about how we are all connected. He started it off with every plant being individual but then he knocked that off. He said that we are all connected and for a reason, ya know? Everyone is connected in someway… I kinda like that. I believe it, I think. Do you?”

Across the pallet, Louis laces his fingers with Harry and sighs. He closes his eyes and embraces the words that Harry has spoken and the insanity of his life, of the life that surrounds him.

“I do. I do believe that.”


End file.
